


Moments

by thegillovnyway



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegillovnyway/pseuds/thegillovnyway
Summary: It’s the BAFTA weekend. Is Gillian going to be there or is she staying in New York?





	Moments

The moment between bliss and sorrow grows shorter each time. Gillian puts her head on David’s naked chest, hot and hard under her face. They’re still panting, her insides still singing, still pulsing. The sex was heavy, hot and quick. The first time always is. This time, though, she is not sure there’s going to be enough time to make up for their urgency.

His hand sneaks over her back before it cups her neck. She’s temporarily distracted. His hands are so soft. They used to be callused, almost rough when they were younger. Back in the day. Or she could be remembering it all wrong. She does that, sometimes. David kisses her damp hair as it sticks to her temple. His lips, she is sure of that, have always been soft. Not always gentle, no, but soft.

“You hungry? Tired? Fuck, I have no idea what time it is,” David murmurs against her, his whole chest vibrating. His hand, possessively, is still on her neck. As if she could disappear any moment.

“Tired, maybe.” Her hunger is stilled. All she’s been craving these last few days was his touch, his presence. He’s here now, with her. There’s nothing else she needs. Except time. They never have enough time. Her mind ticks off appointments: set, make-up and airport. David.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Going home.” He’s quiet. Gillian hasn’t expected anything else. She still has another two weeks of filming left. There is no reason to leave, not really. The kids will come visit her next weekend. Her going home has nothing to do with them for once and David knows. He can put two and two together.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.”

“I mean for that red carpet. You don’t have to.” David is right; she doesn’t have to. It’s a friendly turn, a way to show herself and smile at the right people. She’s done it enough the last few years. Her calendar is full. She doesn’t have to, and yet…

“If I’m not going…” What does it mean? For her? For how she appears in the media. Will anyone care she’s no longer with Peter? It should not matter. For a while it didn’t. She didn’t think about him, anything. She just lived. Followed him around and looked at a life she could have. An easy life, perfectly perfect. Easy. Her hand wanders over David’s chest. It’s solid, strong. He’s been working out. There’s no give anymore, just hard muscles straining under her touch, under his healthy lungs. This is easy, too. A fuck here, a kiss there. When they happen to be in the same time zone, in the same place. It doesn’t happen often these days, but when it does, it’s this. A moment of sheer bliss. One that doesn’t last long. How could it? They live in different worlds. Always have, always will.

“Don’t go.” David says, kisses her again. As if his kisses could convince her. As if they could bind her here, to him.

“I have to.”

“No, Gillian. You don’t. You want to go.”

“If I don’t go, what difference does it make? To you, I mean.” She turns so that she’s on her stomach, her hands clasped on his chest, her head resting there. Their eyes meet. His dark pupil and the clear one fixed on hers. She used to think it represented him well, his two sides. Dark and light, moody and funny. He’s both. To her, it seems, he’s everything.

“Hell, do you think I want to see him with you? Smiling at you, touching you or… kissing you. Do you think I want that?” David’s voice picks up in volume then plummets down again. They’ve been here a million times, maybe more. The same thing every time. Every. Single. Time.

“You have someone,” Gillian reminds him. “We both do. We live lives, David. This here, whatever this is, it’s not a life. It’s a moment every once in a while.”

“What are lives if not moments?”

“No, David. We’re not doing this again.” Gillian moves to get up, but he stops her, his hand splayed out on her back.

“I just want you to stay the whole weekend. I came here for you.”

“Oh fuck you. Your kids live here, David. You did not come here for me.”

“I did. I only flew back for you.” His eyes are as insistent as his voice. She believes him. She knows it’s the truth; she just doesn’t want to hear it.

“It’s not changing anything. David. So why stay? Why make this harder on both of us? I stay here for the weekend, we pretend it’s fine, we pretend that maybe a weekend can change our minds. Then what? We both go back to our lives. It makes no difference.” David is quiet. Too quiet. He’s thinking. She can see it. She wants him to say she’s wrong. Gillian hates being wrong, feels anger boiling up just thinking about it. But she wants to be, this one time. She wants this to work. She’s always wanted it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have tried again and again. She wouldn’t keep falling into bed with him. There’s no future here, not for them.

“I don’t want you to leave. I never want you to leave.” Gillian’s body gives in and she slumps down, a simple trick of gravity. She’s flush against him, their warm skin creating heat. Their eyes are battling; a war of wills. She doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t want to let her go. They’re both in the wrong.

“But David, it doesn’t change-” He covers her mouth with two fingers. Soft, so soft and her eyes drift close. Hot tears spark against her closed eyelids. They’re making this worse, both of them. Gillian thinks of the dress in her house, in London. She knows exactly what she’s going to wear, knows exactly how to put on the right kind of smile for one night. If only she decides to go. Let go of this, of David.

“Stay. Stay with me. For the weekend, at least.”

“We’ll never make it work. Never.” But her protest disappears into his mouth, melts against his tongue. It’s not a life, merely another moment. One she can cling to when they say goodbye again; they’re good at that, at least. She drinks him in, tastes all of him, tries to commit it all to memory. One day she’ll go home, one day he’ll let go. Not today, not yet.


End file.
